


White Noise

by morethananythinginmylife



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub Play, Flogging, M/M, Nipple Clamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morethananythinginmylife/pseuds/morethananythinginmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When Thomas gets this way – frazzled, non-communicative – there usually is only one way to snap him out of it.</i>
</p><p>Guy-Manuel helps Thomas get out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up that this is a D/s fic if the tags didn't tell you that already. But if you're looking for a fic that is whips and chains and lots of "Get on your knees, bitch," you're in the wrong place. Personally, I'm interested in illustrating different experiences in D/s so this is a much softer take on kink. It's kinky but it's not hyperaggressive.
> 
> Comments and crit is VERY welcome so please feel free to drop a line.

Simply put, the remix is just not working. Thomas had battled with it for several days, using every trick he could think of with their incredible custom synthesizer, using a live bass, live guitars, and coming up with nothing. A dull ache clouds the front of his head as if someone is pressing hard against his skull. It had been that way for the past twelve hours or so. He leaves the studio mid-afternoon and headed back to their townhouse. 

When he gets home, he sees Guy-Manuel’s suitcase in the hallway. _Finally._ Guy-Manuel had left to record with a friend down near Cannes. They had texted and called but nothing compared to having him home, especially now. He walks to the kitchen to find Guy-Manuel setting the table for lunch. He doesn’t look up as he set the flatware.

“Heard someone was having a rough time in the studio.” _Of course he already knows._ Thomas walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a half full bottle of wine. He pours two glasses and walks back to the table. Lunch is a quiet affair. Thomas asks about his partner’s time in the South – it went well, they were pleased with the results, a straightforward thing really – and Guy-Manuel softly prods at Thomas’ problem, never pushy and never getting an answer. When they finish, Thomas washes the dishes as Guy-Manuel puts away the leftovers. Concentrating on cleaning every piece of filth from the plates gives Thomas something to focus on, something other than the ache to tell Guy-Manuel everything. He doesn’t want to seem like he can’t function without the other man, like he couldn’t make music without him, because it isn’t true. It’s just that the damn thing won’t work, it wouldn’t slot itself together. He shouldn’t be so hung up on it, he knows he shouldn’t, but the frustration slides against his skin, present and irksome.

Guy-Manuel can tell something is bothering Thomas. While there isn’t always the need to spill their every innermost thought and every banal detail of their day, they usually do talk when they’ve been away from one another for some time. But watching Thomas wash the same plate for two minutes with no end in sight definitely sends up a red flag for him. And when Thomas gets this way – frazzled, non-communicative – there usually is only one way to snap him out of it. Guy-Manuel walks up behind him, slow and silent, and slide his hands down Thomas’ arms. Thomas freezes, shutting his eyes and dropping the plate carefully. Guy-Manuel takes his partner’s wrists in his hands and Thomas bows his head, the tension in his body seeping away. Already he feels the pressure in his head subsiding fractionally. _He always knows._

Guy-Manuel watches as Thomas’ body goes slightly boneless, a deep but near silent sigh escaping his chest. He uses his fingers to check his pulse. It slows a little. Good. He takes a moment to let Thomas focus. Many would think that times like these would be dangerous for playing but they both found that in times like these – the times where the music would get under your skin, when work really felt like work and not magic – those were the times went they needed to let go, to take care of one another in this way. Guy-Manuel unconsciously strokes at Thomas’ wrists, silently praising him for holding still, for focusing, for preparing himself. One hand leaves Thomas’ wrist and reaches for his shoulder. Guy-Manuel tips up and whispers in his ear.

“When you’re ready, come to bed.” Guy-Manuel releases his wrists and kisses the nape of his neck before walking to the bedroom with heavy footsteps. Thomas smiles lightly and sets down the washing cloth. He needs this. Needs Guy-Manuel. Needs the discipline that awaits him in the other room. He takes a second to breathe and completely clear his mind before he walks to the bedroom.

He finds Guy-Manuel fiddling with the small mahogany chest that usually lives under their large bed. He opens it and digs through, its contents rattling. He pulls out a pair of heavy padded leather cuffs and a length of rope and sets them down. He looks over to Thomas and gestures for him to sit on the bed. He obeys, sitting with his hands on his knees.

“Which would you like?” Thomas weighs his options. The cuffs meant that they would get to the action quicker. But the ropes meant that he could watch Guy-Manuel’s hands twisting and knotting the rope, every tendon and muscle working, pull here, loosen there…

Thomas was getting lost in his options. However, it helps Guy-Manuel gauge what to do next. It was clear that his partner was distracted. He reaches across the bed and strokes his index finger along the top of his hand. Thomas shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he looks to Guy-Manuel, calm, focused.

“I’m going to use the cuffs.” Thomas nods. Guy-Man cracks a small smile and puts away the rope, returning the box to its place under the bed. It would be easy to lull his partner into ease with some good rope play but clearly Thomas needs something a little more in the present, something with gravity. He came back up to find him sitting stock-still. Guy-Manuel walks around the bed to stand in front of Thomas. He looked down at him, using his finger to lift his chin. He looks lost, his lips wilting almost imperceptibly. He runs the finger along his lip and then along his jaw.

“Stand.” Thomas obeys silently, standing up in one fluid movement. Guy-Manuel strokes his hand in approval. 

“Undress.” Thomas slides his t-shirt over his head hastily, his jeans and boxers joining his shirt on the floor quickly. Guy-Manuel brings a hand to Thomas’ bare hip and strokes his skin with his thumb. He takes a step forward and crowds him, taking in his scent: thick, heady, unmistakably Thomas.

“Lay down on your back, arms up.” His voice is almost a whisper, the words rushing against Thomas’ chest. Thomas sits down and lies back, pushing himself up the bed. He finally rests and stretches his arms above his head, his hands just short of the wooden grid headboard. Guy-Manuel picks up the cuffs and crawls beside him, still fully dressed. He lies on his side and takes in his partner: Thomas stares at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused.

“Thomas, look at me.” Thomas turns and looks into Guy-Manuel’s eyes.

“What’s the safe word?”

He whispers the word, his voice ragged. Guy-Manuel strokes at his chin. He sits up and straddles Thomas, cuffs in hand. He opens one and straps it to Thomas’ wrist, checking the buckles for pinching. Thomas releases a breath he doesn’t realize he’s holding, the simple sound of the cuff buckle, the sensation of the leather around his wrist, all of it grounding him. Guy-Manuel treads the other cuff through the sturdy headboard and buckles it on his other wrist. He leans back and takes in the sight of Thomas naked and cuffed to the headboard, eyes closed, breath steady. _Where to start?_

The bed dips as Guy-Manuel stands, causing Thomas’ eyes to blink open. He watches as Guy-Manuel begins to undress, his actions slow and deliberate. He watches the stretch of his stomach as he pulls his shirt over his chest, the way his hair falls over his face as he leans down to take off his shoes, the motion of his fingers working at the fly of his jeans. Finally he is naked at the foot of the bed watching Thomas, studying his every movement. Thomas is ready, focused, hungry for what is in order. Guy-Manuel goes back to under the bed and pulls several items from the chest. He places them along the edge of the mattress, just out of Thomas’ line of sight. He closes the chest and stands, smiling. He takes the bottle of massage oil from the nightstand and pours several drops in the center of Thomas’ chest. He begins to massage him, his small hands strong and confident as he kneads at Thomas’ chest, down his sides and up to his arms. Every muscle relaxes under his thorough touch, Thomas’ body sinking into the bed. Thomas lets the feeling of safety wash over him, the caress of his partner overtaking any other thought, any other feeling. Guy-Manuel comes back to his chest and begins moving lower, massaging his upper thighs, his calves, his feet. Thomas’ cock stirs, the sure touches taking effect. Guy-Manuel moves back up, taking note of Thomas’ arousal. _Oh we’ve only just begun._

Guy-Manuel brings his face to Thomas’ neck, pressing his lips to his skin. He kisses his way up under his jaw, kisses his chin, kisses his way to his ear. He licks his earlobe gently and sucks. Thomas tries to hide his moan when Guy-Manuel begins to nibble at the sensitive skin. “Don’t. I want to hear you.” He goes back to nibbling at his earlobe before returning to his neck, licking and sucking as his hands drifted firm across Thomas’ chest. He nips hard on his neck causing Thomas to gasp loud. There we are. Guy-Manuel grins, knowing it’s time to kick things up a notch.

Thomas wants Guy-Manuel’s lips on his, licking and biting at his skin He wants to run his hands through Guy-Manuel’s long hair. But instead Guy-Manuel is licking and biting his way down his chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and laving it with his tongue. He moans unabashedly as Guy-Manuel adds his teeth to the mix, at first massaging and then nibbling. One of Guy-Manuel’s hands moves down to knead Thomas’ ass, the gentleness of his massage in counterpoint to the increasingly intense bite at his nipple. He looks up at Thomas before moving to the other nipple. Thomas watches Guy-Manuel in wonder. Guy-Manuel’s lips are glistening wet and Thomas wants nothing more than to watch those wet lips around his growing erection. Thomas bites his own lip, his teeth only sinking deeper as Guy-Manuel begins to bite at his nipple roughly. Thomas lets go, letting his moans fill the room to Guy-Manuel’s silent delight. Guy-Manuel sits back, saliva creeping towards his chin, and examines his work. Thomas’ hardened nubs are dark and shiny as Thomas lays there, lips parted. Guy-Manuel smiles and strokes Thomas’ hand with his finger before reaching for a new item: a pair of silver nipple clamps attached to a silver chain. He runs one of the clips across his chest. Thomas tries to sit up and watch but Guy-Manuel nudges him down. He opens one of the clips and teases a nipple, closing the cool metal slow, letting his partner adjust to the harsh pinch. These are clover clips, known for their particularly punishing bite. Thomas’ low guttural scream fills the room as the clamp closes fully. There’s no denying the pain but there’s something there that completes him. His headache is long forgotten; his only thought now is of Guy-Manuel, of what will come next. He huffs and then smiles. Guy-Manuel sweeps a hand across Thomas’ cheek before kissing it gently. He clips the other clamp -Thomas screams again before chuckling quietly – and rewards him with a kiss to the other cheek. Guy-Manuel gives a hard tug to the chain and Thomas’ eyes roll as he moans loud, his whole body writing. Guy-Manuel pets his side and places the chain in his mouth, letting Thomas control the amount of pain. 

Guy-Manuel sits back and reaches for the next item: a flogger. The leather strips rustle as he strokes at it, presenting it to Thomas. He runs the flogger down Thomas’ arms, the leather soft and supple against his skin. He runs it down his neck and across his chest, over his dick, along the inside of his thighs, down his calves, across his feet. Guy-Manuel rubs along Thomas’ ankles and looks up. Thomas pulls at the silver chain lightly. He is ready. Guy-Manuel sits back on his knees and begins to swing the flogger in circles. Thomas watches with bated breath as the flogger spins and spins before Guy-Manuel brings it down across Thomas’ chest with a snap. Thomas hisses. The first blow is always a little tough. Guy-Manuel snaps the flogger across his chest again and Thomas’ hiss turns into a sigh. Thomas pulls at the chain, hoping the next blow will be harder. Guy-Manuel takes note and snaps the flogger across Thomas’ thighs hard. Thomas pulls at the cuffs, tilting his chin to pull at the clamps. Guy-Manuel rains down, the flogger landing everywhere: his arms, his chest, his thighs, his legs. Guy-Manuel snaps the flogger across his cock and Thomas cries out, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Guy-Manuel pushes Thomas’ legs open and runs the flogger across his sack before slapping it lightly. Thomas tries to close his legs, pulling at the cuffs, but Guy-Manuel drops the flogger and places his hands on Thomas’ thighs, keeping him still. He kneels down and breathes along his cock, running his nose along the shaft before taking his balls in his mouth and sucking roughly. Thomas keens above him, his back arching off the bed. Guy-Manuel sucks at him savagely, drooling messily. He kitten licks his perineum before sitting up and picking up the flogger. He begins to flog him ruthlessly, Thomas’ breathy moans pitching higher and higher as Guy-Manuel continues. 

Guy-Manuel flogs him in wonder. Thomas’ submission is always beautiful but watching him slip into subspace, gorgeous. He can feel the shift as his body goes boneless, his moans becoming euphoric. He tosses aside the flogger and drops down, kissing him passionately. Thomas pulls at the cuffs, trying to bring his hands down to caress Guy-Manuel’s face. He settles on whining into his partner’s mouth. Guy-Manuel sits back before crawling up the bed. He takes a pillow and sets in under Thomas’ head so it is slightly perched up. He touches Thomas’ glistening lips.

“Open your mouth.” Thomas smiles and opens wide as Guy-Manuel feeds him his hard cock. Guy-Manuel can feel Thomas’ smile as he opens his throat. Thomas sucks hard as Guy-Manuel thrusts into mouth, his hands caressing his head. Guy-Manuel grunts when Thomas’ tongue sweeps over that spot and his hands grip his hair tight. Guy-Manuel thrusts harder, pushing Thomas farther. Thomas takes it all, happy to give his partner everything. Guy-Manuel reaches back and tugs at the silver chain causing Thomas to scream, the sound muffled by the cock in his mouth. He begins thrusting at a merciless pace, tears streaming from the corners of Thomas’ eyes. Guy-Manuel brushes the tears away with him thumb causing Thomas’ lips to curve up, sucking hard. Guy-Manuel is close. He pulls out quickly and takes a moment to catch his breath while checking on his partner. 

Thomas is flushed; his cheeks and nose red, his chest and arms still glowing pink from the flogger. The sight is stunning, his perfect submissive. Guy-Manuel places the chain back in Thomas mouth, admiring the pull of the metal against the wet fullness of his lips. He strokes his cock lazily, riling Thomas up. Thomas is rock hard, a bead of pre-come threatening to glide down his cock. Guy-Manuel reaches for the lube on the nightstand and pours a little onto hands, rubbing them to warm the cool liquid. Once he’s ready, he kneels between Thomas’ spread legs and circles his hole with a single finger. Thomas whines and pulls at the chain with short tugs, urging for more. Guy-Manuel traces his hole slowly once more before sinking it into his tight heat. Thomas melts, his moan long and loose. He is deliciously tight. Guy-Manuel quickly adds another finger, Thomas whining and again tugging on the chain. 

He wants to prepare him but he also knows it’s best if he keeps things sharp so he fingers for just a little longer before stopping, a thin sheen of sweat coating both of their bodies. He slips on a condom and slicks himself before pressing at Thomas’ entrance. Thomas’ answering moan is breathless, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. Guy-Manuel presses deeper, sinking into the tight heat. His eyes float shut as he savors the feeling of his partner. Thomas is overwhelmed by the thick press of Guy-Manuel but he calms himself, relaxing, allowing entrance. Guy-Manuel bottoms out, his balls snug to Thomas’ ass. He leans down and kisses Thomas, pushing aside the chain to fully access his open mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet yet everything they need, warm, reassuring. Guy-Manuel pulls out until only the head remains in Thomas’ ass, shallowly thrusting as he takes the chain and tugs in short bursts. Thomas grunts with each movement, it is a lot but simultaneously not enough.

“H-h-h-harder.” Thomas stutters roughly. Guy-Manuel grins, open and admiring; dropping a hard kiss to Thomas’ mouth. He places the chain back in his mouth and leans back. He lifts Thomas’ legs and begins to thrust hard, pounding into Thomas. He pulled and pulled at the chain in his mouth, trying to mask the screams and moans. Guy-Manuel brushed a hand through his partner’s hair.

“Don’t hide. I want to hear you.” Guy-Manuel shifts his hips and hits Thomas’ prostate. Thomas writhes underneath Guy-Manuel, his moan echoing through their room. Guy-Manuel strokes his hand and zeros in on his prostate, hitting it over and over, dropping Thomas further and further into euphoria. Thomas’ rapidly approaching orgasm almost catches Guy-Manuel off-guard. Luckily, he senses the tightening of his partner and sinks balls-deep, thrusting deeply shallow. It only takes a moment – Thomas stretches out and pulls hard on the chain – and he’s comes hard and untouched. Guy-Manuel presses him into the mattress and thrusts without abandon. He loses rhythm, grunting as he comes. He wants to drown in the endorphin rush but he knows he needs to tend to Thomas. He sits up and begins to pull out but Thomas hisses, “No, not yet, please.” Guy-Manuel looks into Thomas’ eyes. His gaze is hazy and unfocused, completely open. Guy-Manuel smiles warmly and rests his head on Thomas’ chest.

“OK, only for a little while.” They lay there for several minutes, catching their breath and enjoying the companionable silence.


End file.
